


Not Mine to Fix

by TuckerPuppy (HarleyD)



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Jesse/Walt, Jesse is a little broken, Jesse is confused, Jesse loves Walt, M/M, Mike hates Walt, Oneshot, Oral Sex Implied, Unhealthy Relationships, but not sure, like a whole story, might be more - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyD/pseuds/TuckerPuppy
Summary: Mike can't help having a soft spot for Jesse, and he isn't exactly happy about it.





	Not Mine to Fix

            In the seat next to him Jesse is prattling on about something, his voice going up with his excitement, hands moving frantically but Mike isn’t paying attention.  He doesn’t feel bad about it, he is pretty sure Jesse knows that he only listens to half of the things he says.  He thinks Jesse doesn’t even care if anyone is listening; it is just nice not to be told to shut his mouth.

            No, he isn’t paying attention because he’s thinking about Walter.  His lip curls without meaning to as he even _thinks_ the name and that does turn his attention to Jesse.  Jesse Pinkman, barely more than a kid.  Emotional, nervous, sweet, so fucking malleable it’s painful.  It doesn’t take much.  A firm hand, a kind word, and you could get the kid to do whatever you wanted.  Well, almost anything.

            There are a few certainties that Mike knows.  You can’t trust junkies.  The sun rises in the east.  Jesse Pinkman belongs to Walter White.  It doesn’t matter what happens, what is said, what is done, you can get Jesse to do anything except betray Walter.  Anything except stop him from tucking tail and running to Walter anytime the man ordered him back.

            His attention has finally been noticed, Jesse slowly trailing off, face turning red as he looks down at his feet and Mike wonders what exactly had been on his face to get that reaction.  Anger?  Contempt?  Sometimes when he thinks of Walter he forgets to school his features and without thinking he reaches a hand up to cup the back of Jesse’s head, petting it the way you would a dog, reassuring him that everything is okay.  That he isn’t in trouble, that he didn’t do anything wrong. 

            For what feels like the hundredth time he thinks about how much Walter has fucked the kid over, fucked the kid up, and for a second his hand tightens on the back of his head.  His eyes glance down to Jesse’s mouth, pink lips that he licks anxiously and when Mike looks back up the kid is looking at him with wide blue eyes.  Pretty eyes. 

            The car is filled with silence and Mike can’t help his fingers from digging in a little more and he finally sees Jesse’s nervous glance down at Mike’s lap before it comes back up and there is an air of familiarity, of easy surrender.  Mike knows he would do it, he could tug the boy over and he knows he isn’t gay, that Jesse isn’t, but it wouldn’t matter.  If Mike asked him to he would do it and the resigned drop of Jesse’s shoulders makes him suddenly pull his hand away, reaching for the door handle instead.

            “I’m going to do a sweep.”  Gruff words that make Jesse flinch and he reaches for the door handle himself and Mike can’t help but snap out, “Stay in the car.”  He slams the door and doesn’t look back to see Jesse’s face fall, he already knows what it looks like.  Usually it’s because of Walt, but sometimes it’s because of him. 

            He doesn’t need to do a sweep, they are in the middle of nowhere, everything has already been checked but he needs the space.  Needs it to remind himself that he is just supposed to be babysitting Jesse, putting a wedge between him and Walt, and he can’t help the snort because Gus may usually be right about things but he isn’t about those two.  Nothing will tear them apart, and Mike hates it.

            By the time he makes it back to the car Jesse has his arms crossed over his stomach, curled in towards the door away from him, chin tucked down.  He looks like a scolded child and Mike has to close his eyes for a moment before he slides into his seat and shuts the door.  Jesse tenses but doesn’t look at him and Mike could reach out, pat his head, comfort him but instead he stares out the windshield.  Jesse Pinkman isn’t his to fix.


End file.
